I love books. I love reading it. I love how every word made me feel like I was written together with them. I love how each page made me feel the sense of belonging and how good it is to be bound up with them. The smell of each paper, the beauty of each word, the feeling of travestying from reality to the world no one seems to decipher.
I cannot forget the first time I owned a book. It was in my middle school days when I bought the Sabrina the Teenage Witch which I still have until now. Among all my classmates who just bought coloring books and same old Disney story books, I was the only one who bought a book that is not that well-known. I thought I made a huge mistake in buying it. But I’m so good at consoling myself and tried my best to read and finish it, at least give a justice to the money I spent for it. Apparently, it was a good book. Although the story was just about a not-so ordinary middle schooler who has a secret identity as a witch and owns a black cat who chews her paperwork all the time, I enjoyed it as much my friends would tease me why did I even bought it. It’s not bad though, actually.
Maybe there is something about books that I really love. And when I say I love books, I preferred the old ones mostly. I once remembered those times when I was still young whenever we visited our aunt’s house, I would always look for his husband’s bookshelf. It just fascinates me. He is a vintage collector type of man; maybe he loves old stuff including books, I don’t know. I just adore his pile of old books, I would always search for good books there that might be suitable for me, but I’ll end up with nothing but dust-covered fingers.
Since those moments, I started to build my own dream inside my little memory bank. I started to dream that one day, once I’m done with studying, getting my dream job, dream family, and dream house, I’ll build my own library in my own house. Those kind of bookshelves that runs from the ceiling down to the floor, and then I’d place a portable ladder in each shelf. I already planned it clearly and in full, detailed, and now I’m currently working on it. Not on the house and the library yet, but on the books. I’ve been collecting books for so long; since when I was in middle school, since I bought that witch book. I’ve been collecting books not just for the fulfillment of my library, but mainly because I love reading books and I can feel that in every book I read, I also knew that I also encounter a whole new world; a different dimension, a parallel perspective, a pole-apart universe.
These words don’t make sense, I believe. I just hoped that I could express my love to books and to reading so that I would know that it has a purpose. Or it really has, I must say.
And to you who have been reading this, I hoped I made sense. Or at least. If you’re a book lover and a reader, I want you to continue reading and reading. It was a pleasure knowing that I’m not alone in discovering the different sides of the world. And if you’re not, please try to grab a book, open it, and read at once. It would be hard at first, but you’ll love it and you will never stop reading.